


No Fixed Abode

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This isn't James crashing on the floor at work because he was too tired to go home. This is James deliberately camping out at work. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as commentfic on paperscribe's LJ

Robbie makes his way cautiously around the desks in the darkened outer office and towards the office he and James share. It's early - barely six in the morning - but he'd woken early and couldn't get back to sleep. Seemed like a good opportunity to make some headway on those blasted performance reviews, with no-one else around to distract him.

He pushes open the office door and reaches for the light switch. As the room floods with light, a muffled protest comes from somewhere on the floor. Robbie looks down, frowning.

His sergeant is lying on the office floor between his and Hathaway's desks, in a sleeping bag and with a small rucksack beside him. And, Robbie notices with a quick glance upwards, there's a suit-bag hanging from the window lintel.

This isn't James crashing on the floor at work because he was too tired to go home. This is James deliberately camping out at work. But why?

James is dragging himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "...Sir? What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same question, Sergeant," Robbie retorts, perching on the edge of James's desk. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

James's mouth sets in an obstinate line Robbie knows all too well. "Nothing."

Robbie's mind is already going through the different possibilities. James's flat is being fumigated. He has noisy upstairs neighbours and can't get any sleep.

But what if it's something worse than that? What if… what if he's having financial difficulties? If Robbie knows James, James would never ask for help. He would simply assess the situation, work out what he felt he needed to do, and take care of everything himself. James is always taking the burden of responsibility on himself, even when he should ask for help.

What if James is homeless and he doesn't want anyone to know?

"Should I work in the other room so you can get some sleep?" Robbie asks. He needs time to think about this, if James really isn't going to tell him what's going on.

James blinks blearily at him. "What?"

"Well, I obviously woke you up." And, judging by James's state of confusion, he's still badly in need of sleep. He probably wasn't planning to wake for another hour or so yet - that would still have given him time to be up and dressed before anyone else got in.

And there's a thought: is this even the first night it's happened? If he'd been up by sevenish, he'd have had time to get rid of all the evidence – sleeping bag and rucksack down to his car, a quick run to the gym or the showers downstairs to wash and shave... Christ, how long might this have been going on?

James hasn't responded to his observation. Part of him just wants to leave the lad be, give him his privacy. James hates having his personal life exposed, and it generally isn't pretty when that happens. But as the lad's boss – and as his friend – he can't just ignore it.

He looks down at his sergeant, who's now sitting on the floor, half out of his sleeping bag, with shoulders hunched and staring downwards. "James, how long has this been going on?"

James is rubbing his eyes, still looking a bit disorientated. "Three…" He pauses to think. "Four days?"

"You've been spending the night here for four days?" Robbie asks, aghast.

James nods, eyes still a bit bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Robbie shakes his head, not sure what he should say but knowing he has to say something. "James… why?"

"I just…" James looks at Robbie, still a bit sleep-befuddled, clearly. "I just needed to sleep."

Robbie nods. "I can understand that." He pauses. Maybe he ought to invite the lad to his flat tonight. It's not much, but it's a better place to sleep than the office.

Not now, though. The last thing James needs is to believe that Robbie feels sorry for him. He straightens. "I'll leave you to it. Be back in an hour and a half – you'd probably better be up and dressed by then, if you don't want anyone else to find you."

Before James can answer, he leaves the room. 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, he's pulling up outside the house where James rents the ground-floor flat. There's scaffolding outside, and a For Sale sign in the front garden. So, what? Has James been kicked out while there's work going on? And if so, why hasn't his landlord provided – or at least paid for – alternative accommodation? 

He'd wonder why James hadn't told him what's going on, except that he bloody well knows why. Too bloody secretive, the lad is.

Robbie sighs and drives away, making for a cafe he knows opens early. When he arrives back at the station at almost half past seven, he's carrying two large paper cups of coffee and a couple of bacon sarnies.

If Robbie hadn't known James had spent the night in the office, he would never know it from James's demeanour when he returns to the office. James appears fully awake and ready for the day, with only a faint air of embarrassment to let Robbie know that he hasn't completely imagined the whole encounter this morning.

"Thought you could do with this," Robbie says, handing a sandwich and a coffee to James.

James nods. "Thank you." He unwraps the sandwich, staring down at it as it sits in his hands. "Sir… I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention…"

Robbie looks at James in surprise. "What makes you think I would tell anyone?"

Now it's James's turn to be surprised. "Misuse of official resources. I thought…"

"Aye, and I've made it so clear that I do every-bloody-thing by the book," Robbie says with an expertly timed roll of his eyes.

In spite of himself, James smiles slightly. But he's still worried, and Robbie can see that.

The obvious thing to do – obvious for Robbie, that is, and not for official process – is to act like this morning never happened. If James chooses to mention it again, then fine. If he doesn't... well, then he'll see that Robbie meant it when he promised discretion. 

It's a busy, if somewhat tedious, day; they finished a big case last week and it's been CPS reports and other paperwork since then. Robbie still has the performance reviews to complete, and James has a couple of smaller cases of his own to work on. So they're mostly in the office, and in and out at different times. James brings him a sandwich for lunch, and then disappears in the afternoon to follow up on a couple of leads in his art theft case. When he hasn't returned by the time most of the DCs and uniforms have gone home, Robbie waits. Not as if he doesn't have work to do still, after all.

It's close to seven when James returns, and he's carrying his rucksack. He halts abruptly in the doorway when he sees Robbie. "Oh! I didn't expect... I thought you'd have gone home, sir."

"Waiting for you, wasn't I?" He gets up and walks over to James, then puts his hand firmly on the lad's shoulder. "Come on. Takeaway and a couple of beers at mine, an' the sofa's yours for as long as you need it."

James wants to say no. And if he weren't so tired, Robbie can tell he would do. But it's been a long day, and not the first long day James has had. It's clear from the way he holds himself that he's just barely keeping from dropping with exhaustion.

Finally, James nods. "Thank you, sir."

Just the fact that James is accepting tells Robbie that things are quite serious, and that James doesn't have any better alternatives. But he doesn't press his advantage at this point. He merely nods and says, "You're all right."

* * *

James falls asleep several times on the ride back to Robbie's, but tries to pretend that he hasn't. Robbie pretends tactfully to ignore it, and he picks up a few curries for them at a Thai place. James inhales the scent of the food so greedily as he sits in the car that Robbie wonders if James has been eating properly either. Has he been skipping breakfast in favour of making sure he doesn't seem as though he has been in the office all night?

James nearly collapses onto the sofa once they are inside Robbie's flat, letting out an audible sigh of relief.

Normally, James would help with unpacking and serving the food, and would be seeing to the drinks. Tonight, he's clearly barely able to move. Robbie brings plates and cutlery for the two of them, and drops onto the couch next to James.

It's obvious that it's a close-run thing between eating and sleeping for the bloke. James is hungry, yes, but he's barely keeping his eyes open. It's taking unfair advantage, but Robbie does it anyway. "So, your flat's being knocked down or something?"

"Being sold. Inspection found subsidence so they're fixing that. Can't stay there."

"Mmm. Shouldn't your landlord have provided alternative accommodation?"

James mumbles something, and stares down at his food. Robbie nudges his arm slightly. "What was that?"

James flushes. "Behind on rent."

Robbie's heart sinks. So it is money troubles. Probably not too surprising, given James's smoking habits and his taste for expensive suits and technology toys, but he's old enough that he should be able to manage his money sensibly. And, Christ, if Innocent hears about this, there'd be problems. Any copper in that sort of situation's a risk. 

He sighs. "Should've asked me for help. You must've known I wouldn't mind."

James puts his plate on the coffee-table. He's eaten less than half the food. "I'd never..." He rests his head against the sofa-back, eyes closed, and releases a long breath, almost of relief. _Ah, here it comes_ ; Robbie's familiar with the Hathaway signs of walls coming down. 

"Couldn't. I... I'm overdrawn by nearly ten thousand."

Robbie stares at James, hardly able to believe what he's hearing. Overdrawn by… how much? Surely that's not possible. He must have misspoken.

"Overdrawn, you say," Robbie says, careful not to have any tone of judgment audible in his voice or critical expression visible on his face (James's eyes are closed, but Robbie wants to be careful). "By ten thousand pounds?"

James nods.

"How did that happen?" Robbie asks softly.

James sighs again. "Set up my car payments… to be automatic. Was overdrawn for December, but was counting on working extra hours to make up the difference." He shakes his head. "Everyone wanted extra hours. I tried… but there wasn't enough in my pay packet to cover the debt. And of course I had another payment the next month, and the next, and the next, and the overdraft fees kept growing and mounting…"

"Why didn't you take the car back? Explain what had happened?" Robbie asks.

James looks miserable. "I thought I could fix it," he whispers. "I really thought I could…"

Robbie stares at him. This isn't right. It's barely even convincing.

And, come to think of it, he hasn't seen that car of James's for at least a month. Now, admittedly that's because most of the time James is coming to or from work and has his official vehicle, but still. And he knows James is more conscientious than that. He wouldn't get into debt on his own account. Not to that extent. An overdraft of a thousand or so? Yes, probably, and he'd make that up by working a couple of holiday weekends. But ten grand? Not possible.

He sighs and gets to his feet, taking the plates into the kitchen and disposing of the uneaten food, then puts the kettle on, leaning against the counter, arms folded, while he waits.

"Sir?" James is leaning forward on the sofa now, watching him with an anxious expression. "Are you... do you have to report this to Innocent?"

After a pause, Robbie looks at him. "I should. Not because you've got money problems and you've been kicked out of your flat. But because you're not telling me the truth about why you've got money problems."

"I..." James looks as if he's about to protest. Then he visibly deflates, collapsing back against the sofa. "I'm sorry. I... didn't want anyone to know." 

Robbie nods. "I know that, man. An' you'd've kept struggling, sleeping on the floor or in your bloody official car–" James flushes. "–an' using every penny of your wages to pay off the debt, and never said a word to anyone." He makes the tea, quickly and efficiently, and brings the mugs over. "First, you can stay here as long as you need. Second, if your landlord is holding onto your stuff because of unpaid rent, we'll get that sorted. And you can talk to the bank, see if you can't turn the overdraft into a proper loan. If they need security, I'll sign as guarantor." James is about to protest, but Robbie cuts him off. "You don't have to tell me what's really going on. I trust you enough to know it's not drugs or gambling or anything stupid like that. But...?"

James is staring at him, utter disbelief in his eyes. What? It never occurred to him that Robbie would help, if he'd only asked? After a pause, he says, "Sir... I can't... you're far too generous. And I'm sorry I lied. I just couldn't..." A deep breath. "My father. I haven't seen him in years." The words emerge staccato. "He was waiting for me outside the nick one evening. Told me he owed money to business partners. I'm absolutely certain it's not a legitimate business. And he said that unless I helped him he'd tell the Chief Super, and anyone else he could get hold of, that – I quote – her golden boy's old man's done time."

"But why would you think that reflected badly on you?" Robbie asks, a bit dumbfounded. "You're not responsible for what your parents do any more than they're responsible for what you do when you're an adult. If he's gone to the bad, that's not your fault."

"It doesn't matter that I had nothing to do with it. All it has to do is cast suspicion," James says, agitated. "If there's any hint that anything I did could have been for my father's benefit, or wasn't entirely above board… don't you see, it becomes something else, then. It becomes a question of whether I was ever trustworthy in the first place."

"You were and you are," Robbie says.

James looks at Robbie. "I can think of at least a few instances where I haven't been."

Feardorcha Phelan, he means. And Scarlett Mortmaigne. "Those had nothing to do with your dad."

"They had to do with my past," James says tonelessly. "If he can find some way to twist them round to benefit himself, he will. He's very good at that."

"And who'd listen? Seriously, man. You've been a copper for – what? Ten years now? You've been my bagman for nearly seven. Do you really think Innocent or I would change our minds about your character because someone we don't even know makes allegations he can't prove?" 

"There's one thing he can prove." Robbie raises an eyebrow. "My application to join the police wasn't factual. At the time I applied, my father was in prison in Norway for taking part in an armed robbery."

Robbie looks straight at James. "Did you deliberately leave that out?"

James shakes his head. "I didn't know. I hadn't had any contact with him since... well, officially since I was 16, but in practice from about 14. When he first accosted me and threatened me with his criminal record, I told him I wasn't interested. Then I looked it up. I found the Norwegian record – and then five years ago he was sentenced to three years for burglary in the West Country."

"So when you completed your application paperwork, you told the truth as you knew it?" James nods. "Well, then."

James still seems doubtful. Robbie lays a hand on his shoulder. "First things first. If I had a spare bedroom, you'd be welcome to it. Since I don't, you're welcome to the couch as long as you need it. Now, get some sleep. We can start to sort this tomorrow."

And the first thing he's going to do, Robbie decides as he gets the spare bedding for James, is to find out what Innocent knows about Hathaway Senior's record – because there's very little about officers under her command that Jean Innocent is _not_ aware of.

* * *

Robbie sleeps all right that night, though he listens to make sure James doesn't leave in the middle of the night. He doesn't think James will, and is proven correct. He knows James wouldn't have told him half the things he had if he hadn't been exhausted from lack of sleep and worrying about how he was possibly going to manage on his own.

Privately, Robbie would take great pleasure in arresting James's father himself and locking him up for life for what he's done to James. But he realises that probably isn't the course of action James would want him to take.

When Robbie gets up the next morning, James is already at work in the kitchen.

"Coffee's nearly ready, and I've made us breakfast," James says.

Robbie shakes his head. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes," James says with finality, giving Robbie a significant look. "I did."

Robbie accepts his reasoning and doesn't say any more about it. Besides, what James makes for breakfast is much better than what Robbie has on a regular basis, and gift horse and mouth and all that.

* * *

At the nick, Robbie sends James ahead to the office and he makes his way to Innocent's office. He's going to tell her as little as possible, of course. His sole aim here is to be able to reassure James that Hathaway Senior's criminal record can't harm him in any way. 

Later, off the record, he'll make clear to James that he should have come to Robbie immediately this happened. His father had nothing that could have harmed him then. The problem is that he does now. James, effectively, let himself be blackmailed, which makes him vulnerable as a copper. So now, regardless of how much James hates revealing anything about his personal life, he's going to need to tell Robbie even more than he has already, because as well as sorting out his financial problems they're going to have to make sure that Hathaway Senior can't come back and cause James any more trouble.

Ten minutes later, he's heading to their shared office. Once there, he closes the door and leans against James's desk. "As I thought, the information's been in your file all along."

"What?" James looks horrified. "How? And why did no-one say anything?"

Robbie shrugs. "Wasn't relevant. The Norwegian prison sentence came up during your background checks. Apparently, someone did wonder why you didn't declare it, but one of your character references – a priest, apparently – praised you for what you'd achieved, particularly since you'd been without parental support since the age of 16. And then when your father was sentenced five years ago it was flagged and the record went into your file. Innocent was aware of the history, but saw it as a non-issue." 

James looked relieved, but then frowned. "What reason did you give for asking?"

"That you'd just became aware that your father, from whom you're estranged, has a criminal record in two countries, and you wanted to make sure that you met your obligation to disclose all relevant information."

"Thank you." Although the gratitude is genuine, James is looking slightly sick. "I... I've only made things worse, haven't I?"

"A bit," Robbie admits. "But it's nothing we can't manage. If you're willing to be open with me about anything else that might come up."

"Anything else… meaning what?" James asks, looking as though Robbie's attempt at reassurance hasn't reassured him in the least.

Robbie grimaces. This is the difficult bit. "The difficulty is… you've shown that you're vulnerable to blackmail," he says quietly. "So we've got to go over anything you think you might be blackmailed about… anything that you feel could make you vulnerable in future."

James is looking more than slightly sick now, and just a bit pale. "You need me to tell you… everything I never wanted to tell anyone."

Robbie nods. "It's the only way to keep you safe, lad. If it's all out in the open, you can't be blackmailed for it. It loses its power."

James exhales shakily. "You know… how difficult…"

Robbie isn't always much of one for touch, but he rests a hand on James's shoulder. "I know, James."

James doesn't reply. After a moment, Robbie presses harder with his hand, then removes it. "You know I won't tell anyone, right?"

The eyes that look into his are troubled. "But what if you should? I mean, even this... you said I've shown I'm vulnerable, and you're right. Shouldn't you tell Innocent?"

Robbie shrugs. Of course he has no intention of it, but he is treading a careful line here himself. He's James's boss as well as the lad's... well, mentor and protector. Friend. So, however fond he is of the bloke, if James were to commit a serious breach of regulations, he would have to report it.

"This time? No. You made a mistake. Extenuating circumstances – a family member, after all. Christ knows what I'd do if my Mark ever did something stupid an' then came an' asked me to help him escape the consequences."

"Thank you, sir." James takes a deep breath. "I mean it - really. And... I'll tell you what you need to know, if there's anything I can think of. Not here, though?"

"Course not, man. At home, tonight." Robbie moves towards his own desk. "Right, better see what's clogging up me email today. Oh–" He pauses, glancing back. "Best get on to your bank an' see if you can get an appointment today to talk about that loan. Any time this afternoon will be fine for me."

"You're absolutely sure–"

"Said I am, didn't I? Get it sorted, an' then you can get me a coffee – need it if I'm gonna wade through my inbox. Machine'll be fine."

James makes the appointment for that afternoon, then gets the coffee. Robbie salutes him with it, as going through his inbox is a Herculean task… Morse would call it Sisyphean. Robbie is proud he's remembered that bit of mythology. But honestly, email is basically a task for Sisyphus… reply to all the messages at the end of the day, and the next day somehow you've got 36 new messages and are right back where you've begun.

* * *

In the afternoon, they go to James's bank. The manager they speak to is very cordial, but Robbie can tell that James is something of a thorn in their side, and James keeps getting quieter and quieter until Robbie has to do all the talking. Robbie doesn't mind that, though… he's a bit used to it by now, and manages to arrange the loan to cover the overdraft to everyone's satisfaction.

By the time they finish their work and arrive at Robbie's flat, they are both feeling the exhaustion of the day, and James looks nearly as tired as he did the day before. Even so, he silently insists on cooking dinner the way he insisted on making breakfast. Robbie lets him do it because, he feels if he rejects James's overtures of thanks, James will just curl up and shrink away from him the way he did from that bank manager today.

They are having a beer after supper when Robbie glances over at James. "So?"

James sighs, and it's the sigh of a hundred weary nights spent worrying about exactly this moment… the moment everything comes clear about him. "So." He stares at his beer, clearly trying to work out where to begin.

As the silence lengthens, Robbie says, "Look, if you really can't tell me, there is another option. Just say your father does try to blackmail you again. Threatens to tell your boss things you don't want known. You just tell him I already know. An' if he pushes it and does try to get to me, I'll tell him I already know. Take away any leverage he might have over you that way, too."

He'd rather not do it this way – not because he's desperate for James to confess whatever it is that's troubling him, but because he needs to know that James trusts him. And that there's not something else about the lad that could blow up in their faces one day.

"And if he goes to Innocent instead?" James says, voice very quiet.

"Then I say the same thing. Doesn't matter, though. Come on, you should know Innocent – and me – better than that. Do you really think she'd take seriously anything coming from someone trying to commit a criminal act? She'd throw the bloke out, if she didn't have him arrested. And since I can't believe you've done anything sensational enough for the media to take an interest – not even a pathetic gossip website like that Barker's thing – it's not as if he'd have anywhere else to go. Right?" 

"I suppose so," James agrees. "That's... very kind of you, sir. But it's also not fair. If I take you up on it, it says I don't trust you, and nothing could be further from the truth. What's holding me back isn't lack of trust... I'm ashamed." He scrubs his face, then takes a long drink of beer. "I suppose I can't bear to have you think worse of me. I've spent many years becoming the man I am now, and I'm in a position where I know I'm doing well – and I have your respect, mostly. I... Losing that would be the worst possible thing that could happen." He takes another deep breath, and then, before Robbie can say anything, speaks again. "But I need to do this. All right then, sir." He sets the bottle on the table and turns to face Robbie. 

Robbie nods and waits for James to say what he needs to say.

"I…" James draws a shaky breath. "When I was a boy… I used to steal things."

The idea of James nicking anything is so incomprehensible to Robbie that he just blinks at James for a moment. "What… you mean…"

James exhales slowly. "My father asked me to, but that's no excuse. The fault is mine. Money from the collection plate sometimes… sometimes things from shops, or from the house… anything to bring in a bit extra. He said I had permission, and I never thought…" He runs a hand through his hair, hand shaking a bit.

"You never thought your dad would tell you to do anything wrong," Robbie says, feeling a quiet anger toward a man who could use his child so ill.

"I didn't think he _could_ ," James says in a near-whisper. "I never even mentioned it in confession, because I didn't understand…" He shakes his head, looking lost.

"How old were you?" Robbie asks. James's hand is still shaking where it's now resting on the bloke's lap. On impulse, he reaches out and lays his hand over James's, steadying.

"Four or five when it started. Then one day, when I was seven, the priest caught me. Father Thomas. He... explained that it was wrong, and that I shouldn't listen to anyone who tries to persuade me to do something that was against the law or the Commandments. So I stopped."

 _Now there's a thing: a priest who actually did something worthwhile_ , Robbie thinks, then chastises himself for being so uncharitable. "How did your father react?"

James doesn't answer, but his withdrawn expression lets Robbie draw his own conclusions. "What about your mum, lad? Didn't she...?"

"She died when I was six. She'd been sick for a long time. I never told her – I was always being warned not to bother her." James shifts uncomfortably. "I've never done anything like that again. And when I could afford it, I gave extra money to the church. But there you have it – I was a thief."

"You were a _child_." Again, anger courses through Robbie, and his determination to deal with Hathaway Senior in some way increases. He's going to have to – no, they're going to have to. Otherwise the useless toerag will keep coming back, trying to stir up trouble for James.

He has another question. "You said yesterday that you'd effectively been on your own since you were fourteen."

"I didn't want anything to do with him by the time I went away to school – but the feeling was mutual. He accused me of being ashamed of him, which I suppose was true, and he hated the fact that, as he put it, I was becoming a snobby-nosed posh kid, thinking I was too good for the likes of him."

Robbie shakes his head. "I'm sorry, lad."

James lifts his head and stares at Robbie, looking confused. "You're… what?"

"I'm sorry," Robbie repeats. "No one should have to go through that."

James shakes his head as though he can't believe what he's hearing. "No."

Robbie frowns. "No?"

"You should be… angry. Disappointed," James says. "I did something wrong. I… I've been…"

"You were a child trying to please your father," Robbie says quietly. "And when you realised he wasn't looking out for you, you took the distance you needed to take care of yourself. That's brave, James."

James shakes his head, looking down. "It's not brave. But it's all I knew how to do."

"It's brave," Robbie repeats firmly. "Took a lot of strength to do that. Especially when the person you had to keep away from was the person meant to be keeping you safe."

"Thank you." James turns his hand, still beneath Robbie's, around so that he's squeezing Robbie's fingers – just for a moment, and then he carefully pulls his hand away. "I never imagined you'd react like this – but then I never imagined telling you."

Robbie shakes his head. "Everyone's got things in their past they're not proud of. And you show me a kid who's never done something stupid or wrong. But look at you now. Look at everything you've achieved, and everything you stand for. Just so you know, I'm proud of you, man. But," he adds, a bit sternly, because James wouldn't thank him for being too kind, "you're also right that you've made things worse by letting your father intimidate you now. That has to stop – and we can't wait for him to try again. We have to go an' see him and let him know that if he tries again he'll be arrested and charged with demanding money with menaces." 

James looks very uncomfortable at the idea, but then takes a deep breath and nods. "I'll find him and talk to him. You – there's no need for you get involved.

"There's every need. He has to know that your governor knows everything an' blames him, not you, so he's got nowhere to go with his threats." By preference, he'd deal with Hathaway Senior on his own – and try to get James's money back, or as much of it as the man still has – but even if James would agree to it, it's not the best idea. James needs to deliver the message to his father himself, for his own well-being.

James is looking at Robbie with a stricken expression and Robbie doesn't know, isn't sure what that means.

"What?" Robbie asks. 

James brushes Robbie's hand with his fingertips. "I've done this wrong every step of the way," he says quietly, "and you're still willing to help me."

Robbie nods. "Of course I am."

James looks at him, forehead wrinkling slightly. "Why?"

Robbie tries and discards all sorts of explanations in his mind before going with a simple, "Because I want you to be safe."

That was apparently the right thing to say. James's lips curl into a small, private smile.

"That's more than…" James debates about whether or not to finish the sentence, then says, "More than I've ever had before."

Robbie wishes he had the power to change that… to go back in time and knock some sense into the elder Hathaway, or to spirit James away and bring him to a family that would have appreciated him and cared for him as he deserved. Robbie can think of a few.

"Wish that could've been different," Robbie says quietly.

James nods. "So do I."

Abruptly, James stands, then bends to pick up the now-empty bottles. "Coffee, sir?"

Robbie recognises the message James is saying: enough talking about him. So he nods. "Aye, man. That'd be nice." And, while James is in the kitchen, he reaches for the remote and then channel-hops until he finds something vaguely watchable. There's a quiz programme on BBC2, and he leaves that on; James tends to enjoy mocking participants for getting answers wrong.

They watch the quiz, and then the news is on, and by the time the presenter gets to the supposedly humorous item at the end James is yawning. Well, the lad's probably still suffering from sleep deprivation.

"Time for bed," Robbie announces, and stretches, standing. "Oh, and tomorrow we should go an' rescue your stuff, all right?" They're off-duty, which is just as well; it'll no doubt take several trips to bring all of James's belongings back here, and that's not counting however long it'll take to placate the landlord.

"I feel bad about inconveniencing you further," James says, head bowed. 

"You're all right. Besides, if it was me needed somewhere to stay...?" Robbie prompts.

That makes James smile ruefully. "Point taken, sir. Thank you."

"Go on, get yourself to bed."

"Sir." James is standing now, and Robbie glances back at him. "I mean it – thank you." He moves closer to Robbie, and – hesitantly, cautiously – winds an arm around Robbie's back in an approximation of a hug. 

"Oh, c'mere, you daft bugger." Robbie enfolds James in a bear-hug. It feels strange to be hugging someone taller than himself, but it's still nice.

James is tense and awkward at first. Robbie doesn't blame him – probably feels a bit odd hugging his governor like this – but then, after a moment, James lets out a quiet sigh and almost collapses into the hug, holding on tight to Robbie. He holds on as though Robbie is air, as though this is the first real affection he's had in ages.

Well, it could be. Robbie doesn't know about James's personal life – James has drawn a bit of a veil there – but, from what he's heard tonight, although he suspects James's mum probably was affectionate with him, she also hasn't been there for a long time. And as for Hathaway the Elder, Robbie doesn't think there's much chance of real affection there. Too much confidence work going on for that.

Which explains why James's body is nearly cleaving to his, and why James is stooping so he can rest his head on Robbie's shoulder.

"You're all right, lad," Robbie says quietly, patting James's back.

He feels James nod against his shoulder, and wonders how long it's been since James has felt he was all right, truly.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

The flat's silent when Robbie wakes in the morning. James must be asleep still. No bad thing; the bloke's obviously had more than a few sleepless nights, what with the worry on top of having nowhere to live.

When he makes his way to the kitchen a little later, intending to make them both a cuppa, the curtains are open and the sofa's bare, with the bedding James has been using neatly folded at one end. There's a note on the counter. 

_Good morning, sir. Have a few things to do, and will be back in an hour or so._

_J._

Robbie frowns, then shrugs and goes to put the kettle on. He just hopes James hasn't gone shopping, wasting the little money he has access to. Yes, Robbie's fridge is a bit bare, but he's intending to head to Sainsbury's later.

Half an hour later, there's a familiar knock at the door. He really must give James a key. 

The lad's not carrying anything, which is good. "All right?" he asks as he lets James in.

"Fine, thanks, sir. I've been to see my landlord and paid the arrears."

Robbie frowns. "I said I'd come with you later. Was going to lend you the money."

The instant look of recoil on James's face isn't that surprising; he hadn't been at all happy about accepting Robbie's offer to stand guarantor for the loan, but had reluctantly recognised that it was the only way the bank would agree. "It's kind of you, sir, but not necessary. My salary went into the bank yesterday and, if you remember, I worked over the bank holiday weekend, so there was extra. I didn't have to go overdrawn again."

But he'll have spent most, if not all, his month's salary.

"And," James continued, "he told me the foundation work will be finished in a couple of days, so I won't have to be an inconvenience to you much longer."

Robbie fights to keep his voice calm. "James, you'll have to explain this to me, because I'm a bit puzzled. Why exactly are you so set on not accepting any help?"

"What?" James looks surprised. "I thought… you… won't you be happy to have me out of your way?"

"No! I told you, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, long as you want!" Robbie sighs in exasperation. "You've spent all your money on digging yourself out. What exactly are you going to live on for the next few weeks? The smells outside takeaways?"

"I'll find a way," James says, that stubborn set to his jaw returning.

"Why? Why can't you just let me help you?" Robbie asks.

"Because this is my punishment! I took things that didn't belong to me, and these are the consequences. I deserve to have this happen to me, and I accept that. Why can't you?"

Robbie can't help it. He bursts out laughing.

James stares at him, his expression turning confused. "What... Sir?"

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in all me life."

Instantly, James's face is shuttered, and his voice is cold when he speaks. "I'm so glad you find me ridiculous, sir. It's just as well I'll soon be out from under your feet."

Robbie shakes his head, then goes to put the kettle on. "Don't be daft. And you _are_ being daft, so don't argue with me." He turns the switch to on, then faces James again. "Do you really believe that people get punished for doing bad things? Punished other than coppers arresting them, that is? Because look around you. There's no such thing as fate or karma or whatever you want to call it. There's just good detecting and law and order. You know that as well as I do."

James is watching him, not speaking. Robbie presses on. "Told you last night, you're not to blame for what you did. You were doing what that useless so-and-so of a father told you to, an' you stopped once you realised it was wrong. And you've spent the rest of your life so far trying to make up for it."

"But..." James protests.

Robbie leans against the counter and gives the lad a stern look. "If you honestly believe that your interpretation's true, that all bad things happen in order to punish someone for something, then what did I do? What did Val do? You just tell me that, James Hathaway!"

James looks suddenly stricken. "No! That's not what I…" He shakes his head, clearly trying to think his way through Robbie's point.

Robbie softens his gaze and his tone. "So if it doesn't apply to us, why should it apply to you?"

James sighs. "I suppose…" He nods. "I'm just… so accustomed to thinking of my own life in terms of reward and punishment."

Robbie shakes his head. "I can't imagine how difficult that must be. How much you must punish yourself, thinking you deserve everything that happens to you."

James looks down and doesn't say anything.

Robbie crosses to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Let me help you, lad. You've got enough going on; don't take it all on yourself. Please."

"I'll try," James says quietly.

James does try. He spends half an hour or so hunched over his smartphone, then asks Robbie to sit at the table with him and explains what he was doing. "I have a budgeting app on the phone. I was working out how long it would take me to pay back the loan if I was paying rent and bills at the same time, especially as I've got no cushion at the moment."

"Okay." Robbie deliberately avoids commenting; it's up to James to ask for what he needs.

"I was thinking... if I gave notice on the flat – and I shouldn't have to pay a full month's rent for that, given the place has been uninhabitable for the past week and I'm currently paid up – and looked for somewhere cheaper, would it be all right if I stayed here until I found somewhere? I'll pay my way," he adds quickly. "Share the bills, that sort of thing."

"Don't need anything towards bills – they're the same whether you're here or not. We can split the shopping." 

James is about to protest, but then nods. "Thank you. You're very kind, sir, but then I already know that."

Robbie shrugs. "You're welcome, man. Be nice to have the company, anyway. An' don't think you have to take the first place you find. Make sure it's somewhere you'd actually like to live. Like I said, you're welcome here as long as you want, if you're okay with the couch."

James smiles wryly. "It's a lot more comfortable than the office floor. Seriously, I've slept very well here."

"Good. So that's settled. Now, I dunno if you noticed, but there's not a lot of food in, so I suggest we go shopping, an' if you're very good I'll let you make lunch when we get back."

James grins. "I could even teach you to cook while I'm here, sir."

"Now, why would I want to keep a dog an' bark meself?"

* * *

Shopping is a lot more interesting with company, Robbie has to admit. He and James keep a steady stream of banter going between them as they move up and down the aisles.

"You know, sir, vegetables do exist independently of the freezer section," James says.

"No, pretty sure they grow in those little microwave bags," Robbie answers.

James responds by selecting a sample of one thing from each sub-area of the fruit and veg section.

"Come on, we don't need lettuce and cabbage," Robbie protests.

"No, sir, there are some salads in your future," James says. "I'm thinking a nice Cobb salad for lunch."

Robbie shrugs in mock resignation. "If we have to."

If he's honest with himself, he has to admit that… being with James is comfortable in a way that being with others seldom is these days. They get on well, and if the past day or two is anything to go by, they also live together well… don't get in each other's way, and complement each other in what they're willing and able to do round the flat.

Robbie hopes he doesn't get so used to James it will be hard to let him go. That wouldn't be fair to the lad.

That evening, they sit together on the couch watching telly – a detective series Lyn's been nagging Robbie to watch because she thinks he'll find it ludicrous. He does – they both do. And it's much, much better watching it with James than alone, because not only are they laughing at it together, but he also gets to enjoy James's sarcastic asides along the way. 

Yes, he really could get used to this. Shame it wouldn't be at all fair to the bloke to suggest they make it a longer-term arrangement, until James has paid off his loan. He can't ask the man to sleep on a bloody couch for close to a year.

Pity he didn't opt for the two-bedroom flat he looked at when he chose this place.

"You're very quiet, sir. Tired? Or has the bad policing left you lost for words?"

He looks at James, raising an eyebrow. "Nah. Just deciding what methods I want to adopt in me own work. Was mildly impressed by his ability to make his sergeant disappear an' then magically turn a PC into a DC without even asking the bloody uniform's boss."

"I'm afraid my powers of disappearance are rather non-existent, sir. And if you've been trying to bring about that result, I'm afraid you're not as talented as the DCI." 

Robbie shrugs. "Difference is, I'm happy with me sergeant, aren't I?" He nudges James with his elbow.

James smiles. "I'm very glad to hear it, sir."

As they say goodnight a short time later, Robbie feels he has no choice but to mention the other bit of unfinished business. "Since we're off tomorrow as well, man, d'you think you can get in touch with your father and arrange for us to meet him? Sooner he's dealt with an' out of your way, the better."

James tenses at the mention of his father, but nods. "Yes."

Robbie thinks there's a lot said in that silence. "Do you want me to do it?"

"No!" James's response is sharp and immediate. Then he takes a deep breath. "No, I… my father isn't… I want you to have as little exposure to him as possible. I accept that I… want you with me tomorrow, to make sure I don't…" He sighs, and Robbie fills in the words _give in to him again_. "But I don't want him to get his claws into you."

"He won't," Robbie says firmly. "I'm here to be a help to you, and we will get this sorted to your satisfaction. Yours, not his."

James nods. "Thank you, sir."

Robbie rests a hand on James's shoulder, a reassuring squeeze, then finds himself saying, "Y'know, I think I'm gonna get a bit tired of hearing 'sir' all the time while you're here."

"Oh!" James frowns, looking uncertain. "What... I mean, should I call you Mr Lewis?"

"Bloody hell, no. Me name's Robbie, an' I know you know that. An' you're not normally this subservient, so cut it out."

"True." James smiles, and it's a genuine almost-grin. "I shall have to practice some new mocking techniques, clearly."

"Yeah, right, go from one extreme to the other." Robbie makes a long-suffering grimace, which he and James both know he doesn't mean.

"I mock because I care," James proclaims, his tone pure sarcastic drawl; but his eyes say otherwise. 

Robbie gives him a gentle smile. "Goodnight, James."

James covers Robbie's hand briefly with his own. "Goodnight, Robbie."

* * *

When Robbie makes his way into the kitchen in the morning, ingredients are all laid out ready to be cooked, and James is on the phone, his expression grim and determined. 

"No, today. No, I mean it – you're not going to mess me around. Be there, or I will track you down and find out what you're really up to with these so-called business partners." James glances around and, seeing Robbie, gives a brief nod in greeting. "Right. Eleven o'clock."

He ends the call and meets Robbie's gaze. "Meeting sorted."

Hathaway Senior, as it turned out, is a twitchy, sleazy-looking bastard who would've struck anyone with any sense as someone who was up to no good.

"Thought we was doing this alone," he says, analysing Robbie with a gaze.

"I'm his governor," Robbie says calmly.

Hathaway Senior's smile suddenly turns nasty. "Oh good. I've got quite a story to tell you, gov."

"He knows," James says. "He knows all of it."

Hathaway Senior's smile fades. "I don't believe you."

"Shame on you for using your son that way," Robbie says.

Hathaway Senior's eyes go back and forth between Robbie and James. "What is this?"

James takes a deep breath. "This is about you leaving me alone."

"You're my son," Hathaway Senior says. "A son owes his dad."

"A son owes his dad what?" James snaps. "All you ever did were things that could've got me in serious trouble. All you do now are… did you even think about what it cost me to help you?"

"Course I know what it cost. You gave me the money," Hathaway Senior says.

"I could never say no to you," James says softly. "Because I did feel loyal to you. Even when you came to me a little while ago, I did. But I'm saying no now."

"You think I need you?" Hathaway Senior says. "I don't need you. I can get the money somewhere else. Never had a problem that way. I only done what I done to see how you were getting on. And if that's the way you feel about it, you're no good to me. Nothing more to say about it." He turns on his heel and walks away.

"Not so fast," Robbie says, and in an instant he's got Hathaway Senior's arm twisted behind his back. "Cuffs, James."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees James's surprise – but the man's sensible enough to follow his lead. He'd insisted that they both carry their warrant cards and handcuffs, "just in case."

James passes over his handcuffs, and Robbie snaps one end around the toerag's right wrist.

"Oi! What d'you think you're doing? You can't do that! I ain't done nothing!"

"You've done plenty." Robbie's tone is firm, official, completely the detective inspector addressing an arrestee. "Demanding money with menaces, according to the statement I've obtained from your son. And, of course, your use of him as an accomplice to theft. And that's before we look into your current activities. I'd say, given your record, that you could be looking at two to five years – more, depending on what we find out."

"You can't let him do that, Jim!" Hathaway Senior shouts. "I'll tell–"

James cuts in. "There's no-one you can tell. I've told Inspector Lewis everything. I'm not ashamed of my past any more." 

"You heard him," Robbie says. "And I think you'll find he'll be perfectly willing to testify in court." _James, just don't contradict me_.

James does trust him. "If that becomes necessary, sir, then of course."

Hathaway Senior twists around, trying to look at his son. "There's gotta be something I can do to make this go away. Jim! I can't go down again."

"It's out of my hands." James takes a step backwards. "I told you, he's my boss. He's in charge."

"Stephen Hathaway, I'm arresting you on suspicion of demanding money with menaces and using a minor in the committing of a crime. Sergeant, caution him." He fastens the second cuff around Hathaway's left wrist.

"Wait!" Hathaway Senior protests as James is about to speak. "What if I give the money back? Okay, some of it's spent, but I have about seven grand still?"

"Bribing a police officer?" Robbie tuts. "Really, Mr Hathaway, you're just digging yourself in deeper."

"No, honest!" Hathaway Senior is squirming now, clearly uncomfortable in his cuffs. "I could give it back. I haven't got it with me…"

Robbie shakes his head. "Oh, naturally you haven't. But if we'll only let you go, you'll fetch it for us. Honestly, Mr Hathaway, I wasn't born yesterday."

"I'm telling the truth this time. I have got it," Hathaway Senior protests. "Keep me in cuffs and come with me if you like. It's yours. I don't want it."

Robbie turns to James, silently asking what he wants to do. He'd like nothing better than to send Hathaway Senior back to prison, but he doesn't want to overstep his bounds.

"We'll take the money," James says. "That way it can't be used in any other criminal activities, either before or after you go to prison." Hathaway Senior flinches again and gives James a venomous look. Robbie tugs on Hathaway's arm just a little, and has a moment of satisfaction when Hathaway grunts as the metal cuff bites into his other wrist.

" _If_ you return the money, and _if_ you undertake never to attempt anything like this with me again – and to stay out of criminal activity – I may consider withdrawing my statement relating to the blackmail," James says, his stance strong, tone determined. "As for the rest... I'll have to talk to the Inspector." 

Robbie gives James a faint nod. They put Hathaway Senior into the back of Robbie's car and drive to the address he gives them – a rooming-house. Hathaway Senior leads the way upstairs, with Robbie's hand still on his shoulder. Outside a door, he halts. "Can't get me key, can I? You'll have to take the cuffs off." 

"Not a chance." Robbie steps closer. "Which pocket?" As Hathaway hesitates, Robbie grips his shoulder more tightly. "I'll remind you you're under arrest."

Stephen Hathaway deflates completely, and from then on it's straightforward. Inside the untidy, foul-smelling room, he directs James to a hiding-place, and James produces a stack of cash, which he counts. "Seven thousand two hundred."

"Okay." Robbie looks at James, signalling that it's his call. "What do you recommend, Sergeant?"

"Bring him in on a charge of breaching the peace," James says. 

Clever. He'll be held in custody for a day or two, and there'll be a magistrates' hearing, and he'll be bound over to keep the peace. Nothing serious, no new record or prison sentence, but if he's arrested for anything else the penalty will automatically be prison.

Robbie nods. Gripping Stephen Hathaway again, he says, "Let's go." And he pretends not to notice James stuffing a roll of twenties in his father's pocket. Makes sense; at least give the bloke some cash to get away from Oxford.

* * *

"Just seeing to a breach of the Queen's peace, ma'am," Robbie says innocently.

Innocent looks at Robbie, then James, then back at Robbie. "Involving James's father?"

"Fathers are also able to breach the peace, ma'am," James says, giving absolutely nothing away, as is his wont when he's cornered.

Innocent sighs. "Can you promise me there's nothing illegal in it?"

Robbie gives her a shocked look. "We're police officers, ma'am! Course not!"

She sighs again, more heavily this time. "You know I hate when you do this."

James nods. "Noted, ma'am."

She makes a gesture. "Go on. But be aware that if this crops up again, I'm going to require more detail."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am," Robbie says.

As they leave, James says, "You've picked up that habit of mine."

"What's that then?"

"Using an honorific when you're not being particularly respectful."

"Yeah, well, she's said it herself, hasn't she? You're a bad influence on me." Robbie nudges James's arm with his own to show he's kidding.

James doesn't say much on the way home, but his hands are clasped together so tightly in his lap that his knuckles and most of the rest of his fingers are white. Robbie decides that the safer path is to let the bloke decide when he wants to talk, and when they arrive at Robbie's flat, he procures a beer for each of them and slouches comfortably onto the couch… waiting.

Finally, after picking at the label on his bottle for several minutes without drinking anything, James speaks. "Do you think I should have let you arrest him, sir?"

"Not up to me to say, is it? It was your decision to make." Robbie keeps his tone casual.

"Yes, but what would you have done?" James persists.

"I thought it was a good solution," Robbie tells him, entirely honestly. "If I had arrested him, then you'd have had to give formal statements, be interviewed by CPS and give evidence in court – which would only have achieved what he wanted: damaging your reputation. You'd have been admitting to giving in to blackmail."

"Yes." James's tone makes clear he'd already thought of that.

"So, no, I never intended to charge him with that if it could be avoided. Just hoped the threat might induce him to agree to something you could live with. Giving the money back – even though it wasn't the full amount – made that charge moot. An' I doubt we'd ever have got a conviction on the other one, even if CPS would've agreed to prosecute, which I doubt. Your suggestion was a good one." 

"Thanks." James picks at a bit more of the label. "Do you think... is it terrible of me to hope I never see him again?"

Christ. Robbie wants to hug the bloke, but it's not what he needs. Not now, anyway. Carefully, he says, "Bein' a biological father doesn't necessarily make someone a good dad. You should know that – we see it enough on the job. From everything you've told me, and from what I've seen today, I can't see that you owe him anything. Don't increase that over-active guilt complex of yours over him, eh?" 

James smiles faintly in acknowledgement. After a pause, he says, "Your son and daughter, sir... I hope they appreciate how fortunate they were."

Robbie shrugs. "Wasn't always that good a dad. I know Mark thought I wasn't around enough. It's one of the reasons we're not close now. If you..." He hesitates; he doesn't want to encourage James to think of him as a surrogate father, because there's already enough authority difference in their relationship as it is. It's pretty clear that, to James, a parental relationship is much more about authority and status than it is about love and belonging. "You know you can always tell me stuff if you need to, right? Off the record, any time. You don't need to be related for me to consider you family, lad."

The widening of James's eyes and the sharp intake of breath he takes reveals his shock. "I never expected that... Thank you, sir. Um. Robbie. Thank you."

"You're all right, man." Robbie presses a hand to James's forearm.

They sit in silence for another few minutes, and then James says, "Of course, I've now got almost seven grand that I didn't have earlier. I'm going to put that straight into the loan account. That means–" He glances in Robbie's direction for a moment. "I can afford to get my flat back, as soon as it's ready." 

"If you want," Robbie says carefully, trying to keep the reluctance from his voice. "But if you wanted to wait a bit… look for somewhere new anyway, or even build up a bit of savings… you're still welcome here."

"I don't want to be any trouble," James says quietly.

"You're not trouble," Robbie says firmly. "Never that. I like…" He cuts himself off. "Well. That doesn't matter."

"No, it does," James says, suddenly focused on him. "What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say I like having you here," Robbie admits. "Not just tolerate it, James, but actively like it. It's good to…" To have company. To have someone to come home with. To feel as though he's not alone. "…have you."

James is silent. Thinking. Robbie tries not to worry too much about _what_ he's thinking.

"I've never actually lived with anyone," James says eventually. "As an adult, I mean – well, other than being in the seminary, and that was very different. I'm not used to considering other people's needs – or having someone around for company. It's been..." Robbie waits, wondering what James will say. Frustrating? Constraining? "...nice." 

"That's good," Robbie says carefully. "Course, I know the couch isn't as comfortable as a bed, an' you don't have anywhere to put your stuff..."

James drums his fingers on his knee. "I have to admit that could become a problem after a while. And, yes, I imagine I could hang my suits in your wardrobe, but then I'd be getting in your way in the morning."

That's true too. This flat really is a bit small for the two of them, isn't it? Well, he couldn't expect that James would want to stay indefinitely, could he? And, as he's pointed out, now he can afford to have his own place again. "Ah well. Was just a thought."

"Yeah. A nice thought." James drums his fingers again. "I don't suppose we could..."

"What?" Robbie asks as he trails off without finishing.

"No, it's stupid. We couldn't." James won't look at him.

"Don't be daft. Tell me."

This time, James turns to face him. "No, it's just... I'm sure there'd be regulations that wouldn't allow it."

"Allow what? Keep telling you, man, I'm not a mind-reader, an' even if I were your mind's downright impenetrable at the best of times."

A grin flits across James's lips briefly, and then he says, "Getting a bigger flat. With two bedrooms. That we could... share."

"Would you believe I've been thinking about the same thing just now?" Robbie asks.

James scrutinises Robbie's face carefully, probably to see if he's taking the piss. "You're serious? That's something you'd actually be interested in?"

"I would, yeah," Robbie says. "I'd like knowing you were close by… that you were…" He shrugs.

"You've got to stop doing that," James says lightly. "I'm not a mind-reader either."

"That you were safe with me," Robbie says quietly.

James's expression softens. "I…" He stops, thinks, thinks again, and then says, also quietly, "I always feel safe with you. Through all this…" He shakes his head. "I'm not sure you know what it means to me. To have someone _safe_."

"I think I'm beginning to have some idea," Robbie says.

James nods. "If we could… if you want to…" He looks at Robbie. "I would love that."

"Right," Robbie says with a nod. "Then that's what we'll do."

Another slight grin from James. "That easy?"

Robbie nods, resting a hand on James's shoulder. It's about time James had something he didn't have to fight his way through in life.

"That easy," he says.

"And... regulations?"

"Sod 'em," Robbie announces. "If Innocent has a problem with it – she knows as well as we do that we're her best team. She's not going to split us up just because we share a flat." Or a house, he thinks; with two of them, that might be nice. 

"Good." James hesitates for a moment, then says, "I like to play my guitar in the evening sometimes. Would that be all right?"

"Reckon I'd like listening to you." Robbie shrugs. "We've spent enough time together over the past six years to know what we like an' don't like. I don't see anything that'd be a problem. Especially if you're willing to cook the way you've been doing, at least every once in a while."

"I can teach you," James suggests, an impish smile on his face.

"Cheeky sod." But Robbie can't help smiling. This is going to be... well, _nice_ describes it pretty well, doesn't it?

And it's not only James who will gain. Yes, Robbie's looking forward to having the company, but it's more than just having someone else around. It's an end to the aching loneliness he's endured ever since he lost Val, the silence in the flat whenever he's on his own. Even on the nights where he wakes up missing her so much, it'll help to know that there's someone else here. It already has helped, knowing that.

He's not going to tell James that now – but he will, some day. 

He shifts his hand up and ruffles James's hair. "Go on, bonny lad, make us a coffee, would you?"

James laughs, getting to his feet. "Starting as you mean to go on, Robbie? I think I might have to insist on equal opportunity order-giving when we're at home."

"Oh, you might?" Robbie smothers a grin. "We'll have to discuss that... _after_ you've made my coffee."

He gets a cushion in his face for that, but the sound of James humming cheerfully as he moves around the kitchen is more than consolation.


End file.
